A Heated Debate Between Two Charismatic Geniuses: A Cardinal Fan (Jeff Lung) and a Tiger Fan (Allen Krause)

Results tagged ‘ Roger Clemens ’

And no, I’m not referring to the Houston LOLstros, though they are pretty darn rotten, I admit.

The rottenness I’m talking about is the foul stench that emanates from a past-his-prime public relations disaster who seems to have eaten Tony Gwynn on his way to joining the Sugar Land Skeeters. That’s right, as if taking a page right out of Jose Canseco’s book of insanity, Mr. Clemens, the fallen idol of my youth, is now preparing to embarrass himself with what I can only assume is a Favrian attempt to prolong the inevitable Hall of Fame first ballot denial.

If Roger can get on a Big League roster, he’ll get another five years before being considered. And who knows, by then they might be banning people 50 games for NOT TAKING EFFING STEROIDS.

Of course it can’t. It never will. For now until the end of time we’ll still be talking about the steroid era and those who made it infamous. Clemens is just one of many.

Still, I think it is safe to say his role in the overall picture of the steroid era is a bit larger than the rest. He’s up there alongside Barry, considering his Hall of Fame credentials and repugnant personality.

Before any of this steroid silliness was known, I loved Roger Clemens. He was a beast on the mound — a Nolan Ryan/Bob Gibson throwback. Proud, nasty, BALLSY.

But the Mitchell Report tainted his reputation, whether guilty or not, and Roger then ruined it further himself by being an outspokenly whiny ass. I understand the potential frustration that could come from having a tarnished reputation, but there are ways to handle adversity with class and there are ways to handle it like a jerk.

Men, are you moody? Are you out of shape? Do your testicles feel weird? Of course they do. The Astros are leaving the National League and you miss them already.

Ladies, how are you doing? Are you okay? Is that new Lifestyles vibration machine doing enough to distract you from the tragedy of losing the Astros to the evils of the American League?

I understand. The Astros are packing their bags and their Shetland ponies are moving to the coast of west. From the National League to Africa to Turkey all the way to the American League. Don’t they know they’re moving from the farmhouse to the militia camp? They’re going on a pilgrimage, I guess. But, what I really want to know is…

Who’s gonna clean up all this crap when they leave?

This is a great chance for them to leave cornpone Texas all together and get a new start. Why stay in the Orange Juice Box, with that train and that moat? They might as well have a gator pit in left field complete with a Cloverfield monster. And what’s that weird uphill thing they got in centerfield? And what exactly are the Crawford Boxes? And those odd horsey fans who follow caballo Carlos Lee everywhere he goes… are the buzzy bees coming too? And who’s gonna take over the used book sale Drayton McLane held every year to raise money to bring back Roger Clemens?

Meanwhile, on a much sadder note, because of this whole league switch it looks like I’ll have to sell my timeshare in Houston. I’ll definitely miss the hot southern belles who I would lie to my friends about sleeping with when I was actually spending the weekend watching the Cubs.

Good luck, Asteroids. Good night, my friends. It’s off to the west for thee…

After a rough night of Pirate inspired debauchery, Jeff and Johanna clear the cobwebs (and police reports) to make room for special guest, Paul Lebowitz. It doesn’t take long for them to get riled up as they touch on the evil FOX chimera Joe McCarver, Clint Hurdle’s Pirates, the White Sox’s diamond impotence and much, much more!

This weekend provided some flat out taint tickling and nipple pulling excitement golf at the Masters. And…guess what….because…wait for it…. Tiger Damn Woods was in the middle of it. Shocker.

If Tiger isn’t playing, I’m not watching. If Tiger isn’t in the hunt, I’m usually running naked through the yard, among other Sunday things on my to-do list.

The thing with Tiger is it’s so rare to watch someone be the absolute best at something. Jazz-wise we have Coltrane, Armstrong, Miles, Ellington, Parker, Ornette. Once in a lifetimers. I’m not necessarily a golf fan, but I am Tiger fan. I want him to get back to just assassinating the field every weekend he plays. It brings me joy to see anyone he’s paired with pee his pants and lose his s***, or as Ralphy Wiggums would say, “I have two kinds of wet in my pants.”

It’s not about how nice he is or was to the fans, or exceptionally boring and emotionless to the media. I couldn’t care less. It’s not about his love of whooouures. And it’s not about me watching to see a devoted, faithful husband church goin family man.

I want the stone cold killa. I want him to murder people. The way he used to.

I had no problem when Michael Jordan would talk trash, or be a complete pr!ck to his teammates; because his play was legendary. His competitiveness was legendary boarding on hilariousness. “Dude, Jordan just knocked out Horace Grant in practice! He’s so competitive…” “Did you hear Michael put arsenic in Cartwright’s Cheerios to motivate him? SO COMPETITIVE…”

To me, Barry Bonds was different because he cheated the game. Big Mac (Mark McGwire) cheated the game. I loved Jose Canseco (mostly for trading card purposes) as a kid, but he cheated and ever since he retired he has been completely worthless, (other than exposing some other users).

I was a Bulls fan growing up, but I know non Bulls fans across the world that prayed that they could witness in person what M-Jeff could do on any given night. To be there transfixed on the master transforming the court, baseline to baseline, into a cathedral of windmilling-above-the-rim-artistry. Poetry in white-hot electric motion. Also, the only guy ever who could pull off a Hitler stache….

The same goes for Tiger. Putts that always fall at the most clutch times, power rips from the rough, bunker shots that no one will ever make one out of 1000 times.

In baseball, (believe it or not), some of the worst people ever are LEGENDARY PLAYERS. Or….as I would like to dub, the Veda Pierce division, (fyi, watch the HBO miniseries Mildred Pierce. Amazing. The daughter Veda Pierce is the worst, most vile piece of filth I’ve ever encountered in a film character. Yeeshh…WOMEN are awful to each other. The things women say to their own friends is unbelievable. We’ll save this for another time.)

A short list in the V-Pierce division……..Ty Cobb, (beat up a man with no hands once), Mickey Mantle (showed up wasted to games and told young endearing fans to buzz off), Bonds (liar…liar…cheat), Jeff Kent (renowned male member), Roger Clemens (no explanation necessary), Ugueth Urbina, (not so legendary but assaulted servants unwarranted with a machete for swimming in his pool, now in jail for 20 years…) etc…..

Tiger doesn’t have a great rep with the fans, but how many times were Nicklaus and Palmer miked up and how many times did they yell at fans to shut up or trash talked or cussed up and down the course that we’ll never know about?

We don’t ask the legends to be humanitarians, nor wonderful people. We need them to be heroes of their game. Our heroes won’t always be nice. But they DO things no one else can or ever will do. Everything else is perception mixed with irrational desire for purity. The true pureness is the game played at the highest level.

That’s all I want.

And Latrell Sprewell choking P.J. Carlesimo, because don’t we all want to choke P.J. Carlesimo at some point?? I mean….he tried to play Kevin Durant at shooting guard???

The problem is, we forgot to include a survival guide for overcoming the undead already among us. No, I’m not talking about Dick Cheney or anyone else with a pacemaker. I’m talking about something much, much scarier. Hippies.

We all know people who just don’t understand when it’s time to give up or time to go. Names that come to mind immediately include such luminaries as Jamie Moyer, Brett Favre and Roger Clemens. But what about the hippies? Seriously, these guys have been going at it since the 60’s at least. If you want to lump the Beats in there with them, you’re going back even further. C’mon man, pot and patchouli are cool but at some point you have to give it a rest.

Now, there’s no denying that the hippies have given us some wonderful things. There’s no way that VW could have stayed afloat long enough to give us the new Beetle if it wasn’t for the hippies buying up all the VW vans. And where would we be without tie-dye? I’d be missing at least one shirt, that’s for sure.

But at some point you have to accept that your revolution has reached it’s natural end and move on to something new. For instance, try on some skinny jeans and an ironic t-shirt and join the hipster movement. At least the name is similar. That’s helpful when you’re working with less than a full contingent of brain cells.

Here’s the thing, the anti-hippie revolution is already underway and if Malaysia has put their foot down, other civilized countries can’t be far behind. The bell has tolled, hippies. Time to wake up. Jerry Garcia is gone, Timothy Leary is dead (I think) and pot is almost legal. Hm, now that I think about it, maybe we should be writing a guide on helping hippies reintegrate instead of marginalizing them further……..Nah. Stupid hippies.

The Hall of Fame, PEDs and the suggested fondness of Phil Rogers is all it takes to get Jeff and Johanna attempting to kill each other. Allen probably wished at least one of them would have succeeded… but you’ll have to decide for yourself as the fellas discuss all things controversial and racy (almost like ‘sexy’ but less sexual). Keith Hernandez gets a mention. And the Kirk Gibson story… well ya need to just hear it… all to make you Sir or Madame Smilesalot!

*Special thanks to our PodMaster Keith Carmack. You can experience Keith’s wicked podcast and subsequent film projects at Undercard Films. Keith is a hot topic right now! Not only is he filming that cool baseball doc, but now he’s got some commercial gigs from the Undercast, so go check it out!

…the fullest, rawest, most awe inspiring podcast yet, RSBS convenes as Jeff, Allen, Johanna and special guest Mark Piebenga from Second City all come together for one rip-roarin’ time! Among the topics of conversation (sponsored by Lifestyles and encouraged by Miller Lite) are strains to one’s right glute, burning one’s hand on the hot stove, hiding one’s pain with the NBA… and much, much more!

All to make you smiley face!

Holla!

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For more on Mark’s work on RSBS‘ Ninemen’s Morris series, check out this story then click on the Ninemen’s Morris tag at the bottom for more early 20th century hilarity!

*Special thanks to our PodMaster Keith Carmack. You can check out Keith’s wicked podcast and his subsequent film projects at Undercard Films. The dude has mad skillz, so you might wanna pay attention. Do it! Now!

Jeff and Johanna welcome a very special guest, Second City funny man Mark “Pie” Piebenga, to the Logan Square Studio for an RSBS Podcast pow-wow of epic proportions (we would like to thank Miller Lite for making it, as the kids say, ‘epic’)! From Jim Joyce’s ‘stache to Nolan Ryan’s pomposity to Nyjer Morgan’s right hook to Bobby Scales’… existence?… all the gloves come off as the fellas look back at the 2010 season and gear up for the winter with plenty of chuckles and plenty of beer. All to make you laughy laugh!

Holla!

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For more on Mark’s work on RSBS‘ Ninemen’s Morris series, check out this story then click on the Ninemen’s Morris tag at the bottom for more early 20th century hilarity!

*Special thanks to our PodMaster Keith Carmack. Keith is involved in some impressive projects himself. Check out his work at Undercard Films. Seriously. You should do it. If you don’t, you might find out about his MMA skills first hand. Holla!!!

Jeff and Allen have been very busy all season long and with the playoffs in full swing, they thought it might be nice to bring in some relief writers. Today their friend from college, Jordan, gives us his take on the playoffs.__________________________

Man, it really is great to see Tommy Lee out there thrilling the crowd again. And this time instead of sticking it to Pam Anderson, he’s sticking it to the Yankees, picking up right where he left off last year. I’m happy for the guy, though. It’s a real achievement and hopefully it makes up for taking all that crap from Nikki Sixx for all those years. And playing for the Mariners. Now that’s a motley crew, right? Right?

Meanwhile Henry Rollins found an ideal moment to get back into form. Sure, he’s had a rough season and the last couple years weren’t the same with the injuries and all. But hey, what do you expect when you go from fronting Black Flag to playing shortstop for the Phillies?

But the Phillies also made the bold move of picking up Matt Holliday and turning him into a pitcher. It’s like the anti-Rick Ankiel. Considering that first round no-hitter he threw, it appears the Phillies get the last laugh. In all honesty, I didn’t see it coming either.

And of course the Yankees are loaded from top to bottom. Is Roger Clemens still playing? No? Uh, ok. Well, at least they still have Kung Fu Panda, Chien Ming Wang. I think that’s his nickname. He is Chinese after all. Or is he Korean? I always get them mixed up.

Anyway, the point is, I love the baseball playoffs and they’re even more exciting than usual this year with all these familiar names and faces in new places. I’m still a little bummed that my Twins didn’t do better but really, they just haven’t been the same since Kirby Puckett and Kent Hrbek left.

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